


Heroes

by herbailiwick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1852108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sastielinstilettos prompted: "Sevin, worthless."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heroes

"Are you mad at me?" Sam asks. It’s such a strange question, one a little kid should ask, or a teenager on an instant messaging service. But Sam’s completely gigantic and he’s like 30 or something, so it throws Kevin for a second. 

"Uh. Should I be?" He doesn’t look up from the comic, flips to the next page and just keeps reading. He’s got a lot of reasons to be mad, he knows. He wonders which one this is about.

"For the Trials," Sam explains. "I stopped the Trials."

Kevin looks up at him. Sam always looks genuinely sorry. He sort of gestures for Sam to take a seat, and Sam does, obedient.

Honestly, it’s been days since anger turned into a sort of “whatever” for Kevin about that. Those Trials hadn’t been the best idea in the first place. “Weren’t you, like, gonna die?” he asks.

"That’s not what I’m asking," Sam points out.

"Yeah, but, it seems relevant. I guess I’m not mad. It’s not like I like demons or anything; they’ve ruined my whole life. But, whatever."

Sam breathes out a little sound of relief, like he understands.

"Demons killed my girlfriend too," Sam says softly as Kevin turns back to his comic.

"What?! When?" He’s looking back up again, and actually sort of interested for the first time in a long time of dealing with the Winchesters.

"2005," Sam admits.

"You know, I wasn’t the only one who put a lot into the Trials," Kevin points out. "You were really sick."

"I didn’t think I’d be bouncing back from all that," Sam agrees. "Thought it was purifying me, for a while. I don’t think that anymore. But, I stopped, and it stopped."

"It?"

"Uh. The glow-y Trial light. That energy. When I would say the spell, it turned my arms into a light bulb. Kind of burned," he admits.

"I really wish Dean hadn’t stopped you."

Sam’s expression closes off. Kevin pulls in a sharp breath through his nose as Sam nods once, accepting of what he sees as some sort of judgment on his life or his choices. He feels bad that he stopped, or bad that he’s alive, or something.

"That’s not what I mean," Kevin says.

"It’s okay," Sam says. "I agree with you."

"Don’t," says Kevin.

"I wanted to finish them more than I’ve wanted anything in a very, very long time," Sam says.

Kevin reaches over and picks up another comic as a peace offering and a distraction. “Want to read?” Sam frowns, but, slowly, a gigantic hand unfolds, reaches out for the comic. When he reads, his touch is delicate, gentle. He’s always so in-control. Kevin has felt Sam’s gentleness before. 

"I did a lot of preparation for the SAT, Sam," Kevin shares.

"All those classes, probably a lot of studying. Didn’t you want to be president?"

Kevin freezes, suddenly flooded with old dreams, with pictures he’d had of what success would look like. The words on the comic are blurring a little when he sees it in Sam’s hand. Sam’s right there then, standing, leaning toward him a little. “I’m sorry,” Sam says. He’d asked so casually, like he was interested in Kevin’s life, but he obviously hadn’t realized it would be such a loaded topic.

Neither had Kevin.

Kevin looks up, looks straight into Sam’s eyes, into a gaze full of sorrow so heavy it actually outclasses Kevin’s. He realizes Sam probably lost a lot too. He wonders if Sam ever wanted to be anything.

Kevin gives a chuckle. “My point was,” he says with a swallow, “I know what it’s like to give something my all and then not get to do that thing. You know?”

"I do know," Sam agrees. Sam slowly sinks back into the chair he’d been in, watching Kevin. "Yeah, I think you not taking the SAT’s is a little bit like me not finishing the Trials for you. You have a lot of time, though, Kevin. We can help you finish your education. Trust me; I know a lot about making up credits."

"You had a life on the road growing up, right?"

"That’s right."

"Sam?" Sam looks ready to answer Kevin but also afraid of what he’ll ask. "What did you mean, when you said you’d saved the world before? That whole marathon metaphor."

"It was…nothing," Sam explains. "I mean, an apocalypse isn’t exactly nothing, but, you’ve been through one yourself now, and…."

"And…it’s nothing," Kevin agrees. "So, it was you last time, not Dean."

"Uh. Well, I had help," he shrinks a little bit in his chair. Kevin wonders why he’s always so interested in seeming small. Even at his largest, he doesn’t seem very threatening.

"Was it like with the Leviathan? You just needed a big weapon?"

"I was fixing a problem I caused," says Sam. "And I was the big weapon."

"What, like you have superpowers?"

Sam looks down at the comic in his hand and grows quiet.

***

"So, does Crowley have the hots for you or something?"

"Yeah," Sam says. "It’s a…demon thing. They…think I’m somebody I’m…not." He doesn’t seem too sure of him not being the somebody they think he is.

"Like the angels think I’m somebody I’m not?" he offers.

"Maybe," says Sam.

"Are you afraid of being what they think you are? Is it bad? Is it a weapon?"

"I  _am_  a weapon. I told you that,” Sam points out. “Well, maybe not anymore.”

"Deactivated?"

"I wish," Sam jokes. Kevin pauses. "I’m sorry," Sam says. "That was kind of dark."

"I really like how gentle you are with things," Kevin admits, voice soft. "I mean, I don’t know you very well, but you’re no Dean." Sam frowns at that, not following. "I think you’re more of a body shield than a weapon."

"Thanks," Sam says, still confused. 

Kevin looks Sam up and down for a moment, swallows. 

"How are things going with the tablet?"

"Okay," he says. "Is it, like, demons you were fighting before, or?"

"Angels. And…horsemen of the apocalypse. Demons were kind of…chump change," Sam admits.

"You’re still afraid of what they represent, though. Aren’t you?"

"I’m not afraid of Crowley," Sam says without answering. "And, now that we have him all tied up, you don’t have to be either. We’ll keep you safe."

"You always have, Sam." Sam pushes past Kevin to make some coffee. "And I think I see what he sees in you," Kevin admits to Sam’s back. Sam pauses, then gracefully ignores the statement.

Kevin feels oddly proud of himself for admitting it as he heads to his room. He might as well get his thrills where he can. Prophets don’t get to have adventures like college kids do.

***

Sam plops Kevin’s cardboard box of comics onto the table on top of some of his notes. “Break time,” he announces.

Kevin stretches. “No argument here,” he admits. His neck cracks, and he winces. He starts to rub at it. 

Sam nudges the box closer to Kevin so he can reach in and get one, and then he hesitates for a good couple minutes, hovering. Kevin wants to know what’s on his mind, but the best thing to do is to wait, and not to press like Dean does. Sam will be more honest that way.

"Want some help with your neck?"

"You don’t have to get all awkward about it, Sam," Kevin says, teasing more than telling. "Come on. I’m not gonna turn that down. I was sitting wrong, for too long. You’re the one who said health is important."

"I did," Sam agrees, standing behind Kevin, and Kevin flushes slightly as he realizes that giant of a guy is getting ready to touch fingertips to his bare skin. 

The hands are more gentle, more knowledgeable than he’d realized they would be even as they start to work. He lets his eyes close. “Okay, kudos, Sam. You may have missed your calling.” 

"I don’t like touching people," Sam explains. Kevin tenses slightly, so he explains, "Strangers, I mean. This is okay because we’re friends, or whatever. But the idea of having to touch strangers really creeps me out."

"It creeps me out too," Kevin admits. "What was it you wanted to do?"

"I just want to save people," Sam says.

"Beyond that."

"We don’t pay rent. There’s no beyond that for me."

"In college."

"Oh."

"I know you went to Stanford," Kevin admits. He’d looked it up. "What did you want to do?"

Sam’s movements are more awkward now. It’s like he doesn’t even want to touch Kevin anymore. His fingers still press and rub, and it’s still right, but it feels sadder, somehow. His voice is quiet. “Be a lawyer,” he admits.

"That’s awesome," Kevin says.

Sam’s fingers actually still. “Kevin….” He’s pleading for them to change the subject.

Kevin puts a hand on one of Sam’s. Neither of them moves. They just breathe. They feel the connection.

Sam pulls his hand away. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

"There’s nothing to be sorry about."

"No, there is." He can see Sam wince as Sam gathers himself. "I need to…. Uh, you enjoy your break, okay?"

Sam heads for his room. 

Kevin takes in a deep breath and considers his options. He sort of fucked up. Leave Sam alone, or offer some comfort?

The box of comics, sent by his mom, feels heavy in his hands despite not being very big, but it feels less so with every few steps toward Sam’s room.

The door is firmly shut. He shifts the box and turns the doorknob. It would be nicer to knock, but he needs to try and fix things for Sam.

"Sam?" Sam is lying down in bed, clutching a pillow, and it confuses Kevin to see him looking so young and uncertain. He rounds the bed, setting the comics down. Sam hasn't decorated his room like Dean has. Kevin had never been inside before. It's a privilege he didn't deserve, he realizes, and he hadn't asked if he could come in and now wishes that he had, but first he wants to say, "I'm sorry I asked. I'm sorry about your girlfriend, and about your dreams and stuff."

Sam sighs, wipes at his eyes with his sleeves, curls up just a little more, his shoes still on his feet, looking at Kevin with an appreciative softness. He likes that someone showed up to check on him, but it's clearly hard for him to have someone see his pain. He's embarrassed.

Taking a deep breath, Kevin sits at the edge of the bed. "You didn't finish," he points out.

"I don't finish a lot of things, Kevin," Sam reminds him, slowly sitting up. He gets into position behind Kevin, much more intimately than before, actually, but neither of them mind. Sam's knees actually brush Kevin's butt as they try to find a good position, and Kevin tries not to feel so much glee about it.

"I didn't finish law school. I had a ring I never gave her. I didn't finish the Trials. I lost track of you, and that was wrong."

"I did better on my own anyway," Kevin points out. "And I understand why you forgot about me."

"I'm so pathetic," Sam went on, starting a bit on Kevin's shoulders. "I've been through worse. Seriously. But, I crumpled. I don't know; I just ran. I don't know why I did that. I can't believe I did that."

"Wow, so you have, like, one character flaw. Whoop-de-do."

Sam snorts. "Try like a thousand."

"No. You're, like, literally...awesome."

Sam snorts again. "Did your study session affect your reasoning? Holy shit."

When Sam finally stops and says, "You should be good to go," Kevin doesn't really want to move. He feels so lax, so boneless. So, he scooches back, leaning backward until he makes contact with Sam.

"Um?"

"Can I be good to stay?" Kevin asks.

Sam swallows, and Kevin can actually feel it. "I'm not gonna insult you, like, you know what you want, it's just...not a good thing to want. In...any way. It's wildly inappropriate, but also just...I'm." He swallows again. "Kevin, I'm not worth it," he admits quickly. 

"Don't people, like, not get to decide that about themselves?" says Kevin.

"Do you know how many exes of mine have died?" Kevin stills because, no, he doesn't. "It wasn't just one. It wasn't even just two. I just can't. I even...I had an ex who said that was for her to decide, and it wasn't for me to protect her from. You know what happened?"

Sam's voice is bitter, and Kevin is intrigued but sad. "What?" he asks.

"Crowley killed her. I think because I kissed her. Crowley choked her to death. Dean had the hex bag  _in his hand_ , and we didn't know." _  
_

Kevin rests his full weight back against Sam, sighing.

"I wish I could help you," Sam says. "If it's romance, if it's sex, whatever it is. I wish I could help you. But I can't help anyone. It is honestly, honestly better if I'm not here. I'm talking cold, hard logic."

"Not everything is logical, Sam."

Sam curls an arm around Kevin, slides back onto the bed in his former position, taking Kevin with him. "The important stuff is. Emotion comes and goes. Pain comes and goes."

"You've never done me anything but good."

"That's not true."

"Sam." He holds onto the silence after he speaks Sam's name. He holds onto having Sam's attention. "Sam, a net positive is still a positive. Everything is...fucked. We're in a bunker. We have dead girlfriends and Crowley wants you and I think he wants me to be his, like, mascot or whatever. Or his sadist. Something."

Both of Sam's arms tug Kevin close, hugging him. 

"So, maybe you fucked up. So, maybe  _I_  fucked up. You are so important, though, to, like, the world. I get that you've done some shit, like, you were a weapon or something. But you'd protect anyone, even some punk kid you just met who just missed the SATs. I've seen you as an ally, but I've seen you as a guy who needed protecting, and you are exactly what people like that need."

It's a few minutes before he realizes that Sam has fallen asleep with him held close. He's amazed he could offer some sort of comfort to such a self-sufficient guy after all.


End file.
